


Tiger, Tiger

by Moorishflower



Series: Nerdstuck! [4]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Flush Crush, Gen, Nerdstuck!, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ficlet for the Nerdstuck! universe. Jade and Gamzee's first meeting still sees them thousands of miles apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiger, Tiger

“Roll camera!”  
  
“But the light--”  
  
“Forget the light, _roll the fucking camera_ , oh my God!”  
  
Your name is Jade Harley, and you have been tracking this tiger through Heilongjiang province for about two weeks now. Possibly there have been several tigers, as the province is home to about fifty of them, thanks to recent conservation and recovery efforts, but the particular tiger doesn’t really matter; what matters is that you’ve finally gotten close enough to actually _film_ the damn thing. You make frantic eye contact with your cameraman, Jack, until he snarls and reluctantly hauls his camera up onto his shoulder. He’s just grumpy because of the camouflage he has to wear: it makes him look like a leafy peacock.  
  
You don’t mind it so much. You spent most of your childhood darting through the semi-tropical jungle brush of your little island, largely unattended save for your dog (not because papa doesn’t love you, because he _does_ , but because you were a headstrong little girl and you sort of still are, only less little), and so a little foliage doesn’t bother you. Jack just thinks he looks ridiculous.  
  
(He does, but no one is allowed to tell him that, because you’re pretty sure Jack used to be a mob boss or maybe a hired gun, and he has a habit of flying spectacularly off the handle when he’s insulted.)  
  
You creep as close as you dare, some thirty or forty feet downwind of the tiger lounging in the small clearing up ahead. It’s picture perfect, even if the lighting isn’t: bamboo grows abundantly, creating a pale green wall on one side, and on the other side is the Muling River. Hulin is very nearby, which makes it doubly imperative that you film this tiger while you still can, and then make sure that it ranges safely away from the city. If you have to, you’ll tranquilize it, but you don’t really want to do that. It makes you feel pretty bad, afterwards, even if you aren’t actually hurting anything.  
  
“Rolling,” Jack says, and you move in front of the camera, a little off to the side so Jack can get a clearer shot of the tiger.  
  
“Hi everybody! Jade Harley here, explorer extraordinaire! We’ve been here in Heilongjiang Province for about a month now, tracking the wildlife and interviewing some of the locals on this region’s history! Heilongjiang is one of the more remote provinces of China, and is home to around fifty of one of the more endangered creatures on the planet: the Siberian tiger.” You glance over your shoulder; the tiger is staring directly at you. It yawns. That is a _lot_ of teeth.  
  
Jack films while you explain the critically endangered nature of the Siberian tiger, making sure to emphasize the fact that there is no scientific proof that powdered tiger _anything_ will cure your heartache, common cold, erectile dysfunction, et cetera. You do a short bit on how owning a rifle is a privilege, not a right, and all hunters--yes, even yourself!--have to do their part to make sure that they aren’t making too large a dent in a given population, which, for tigers of any subspecies, is any dent at all.  
  
The tiger waits patiently while you talk, even allowing you to move a few feet closer before starting to give off warning signals, and it doesn’t move until Jack calls “Cut!” Then it slowly climbs to its feet, executes a picture-perfect housecat stretch, and ambles off into the bamboo.  
  
“Oh my gosh, did you _see_ that, Jack? Oh my gosh!”  
  
Yes, he saw it, yes, it was magnificent, yes, Miss Harley, yes yes _yes_ , he says. Can we go now? he says. He needs to Skype his dad and tell him that he hasn’t been eaten by either the wildlife or the locals.  
  
“Your dad’s a bit racist,” you say, and Jack sighs heavily and says he knows, but he’s an old man and there’s not much he can do, and besides, the wildlife bit is a legitimate concern. “All right, all right, keep your butt on!” His butt is firmly on, he says. No removing this butt, no sir.  
  
You gather up all of your equipment and begin the long hike back to your truck. Jack swats periodically at flies and complains bitterly about the humidity every half-hour on the half-hour until you clamber back into the truck and he can turn the AC on full-blast.  
  
You take turns driving back down into Hulin, where a hotel with an attached spa awaits, and in the morning there will be a charter plane to take you back to Beijing. You aren’t looking forward to the flight, but there’s not a lot you can do about it, and your producers are starting to get antsy. They gave you three weeks and you’ve taken a month, which doesn’t bother you one bit, not at all, but TV people get weird when they start assigning deadlines. You’re pretty sure the footage of the tiger, and you being so close to it, will be enough to soothe any ruffled feathers, though.  
  
The hotel is blessedly cool after the humidity of Heilongjiang's 'wilderness,' and you help Jack unpack everything (despite his protests) and then cart the whole mess into your shared hotel room. He shuts himself in the bathroom so he can wash off the grime and the sweat of the day, while you plug in your laptop and log on to see what’s happening with your friends.  
  
A bunch of people have sent you emails! Here’s one from John, telling you about how...oh! He’s got a boyfriend now! Well, you knew that he had someone who was interested in him, but he didn’t know who the notes were from, but apparently everything’s been resolved! How cool! He’s also included the trollhandles of his new group of friends, the ones you don’t already have, which is exciting to you because you’re always keen on having more friends!  
  
Dave’s email mentions that he’s thinking of buying Tavros a nice wriggling day present, not just a CD or anything; you tell him that he can do whatever he wants with his money, and Tavros will probably be thrilled, but that the best presents are the ones you put a lot of effort into. Why not record him an album? You think that would be super romantic!  
  
Rose talks a little about how university is treating her (she says she’s been labeled ‘the weird goth chick’ by the other people on the floor of her dorm, _boo hiss_ ), and how she’s intrigued and anticipatory regarding her new roommate come Spring semester. She’s sent you a copy of the latest chapter of her magnum opus, an as-yet untitled book about four kids and the end of the world, and asks for your opinion. You resolve to read it soon, possibly while you’re relaxing in the spa, if you can get away with bringing your phone in with you.  
  
And...someone is pestering you?  
  
You open pesterchum and are perplexed when you don’t find the person’s handle on your chumroll. Unless...? Yeah, there they are! Down in the trollslum, which means they’re probably using Trollian. Pesterchum is busy working on a fix for that, but until then alternate clients get relegated to the bottom. Sad face! You open the message from ‘terminallyCapricious,’ which you think might actually be one of the handles that John gave you? How cool!

  
TC: what is up my jade chica? honk honk.   
TC: I MOTHERFUCKING HOPE I GOT THE RIGHT HANDLE.   
TC: else i’ll be hella embarrassed.   
GG: no no this is Jade! :D   
GG: jade harley! i guess you must be one of johns friends?   
TC: SURE AM.   
TC: he’s all good bros with my best bright diamond karkat.   
TC: SO I KNOW HIM ON ACCOUNT OF THAT.   
GG: how cool! are you one of the people who plays the rpg with him? whats your name?   
TC: nah i don’t go in for the tabletop stuff much.   
TC: I MUCH PREFER TO MOTHERFUCKIN WATCH.   
TC: honk.   
TC: NAME’S GAMZEE MAKARA.   
TC: pleasure to make your fine acquaintance. :o)   
GG: pleased to meet you too! so tell me about yourself! im just relaxing after work so i dont have anything to do and the hotel is SO BORING!!!   
GG: especially after seeing a tiger! tigers make everything seem boring in comparison i think   
TC: YOU SAW A TIGER?   
TC: where? :o?   
GG: oh not in america! in china!   
GG: i make shows for like the discovery channel and animal planet and stuff   
GG: so i’m in china filming wildlife and interviewing people!   
TC: THAT IS MOTHERFUCKING FANTASTIC AS FUCK SIS.   
TC: i don’t know how i could compare to that with me being all boring and shit.   
GG: ill bet you you arent boring! ill bet that youre actually really interesting!   
GG: you shouldnt be worried about what other people think of you   
GG: because the people who matter most dont care about what you believe or what youve done or havent done   
GG: i mean obviously they care because they matter but they wont make a big deal about it unless you want them to!   
TC: DAMN GIRL.   
TC: are you one of the mirthful prophets   
TC: BECAUSE THE WORDS YOU’RE UP AND SPEAKING ARE MOTHERFUCKIN INSPIRING.   
GG: i dont know what that means!   
GG: but if im being inspiring thats a good thing, right?   
TC: it’s the finest thing imaginable chica.   
TC: FINER THAN THE FRESHEST MOTHERFUCKING WICKED ELIXIR.    
TC: so does that mean you really want to talk?   
TC: EVEN THOUGH EVERYONE SAYS I’M THE WEIRDEST MOTHERFUCKER THEY EVER DID SEE?   
GG: well ive never talked to you before!   
GG: so i dont know what everyone means   
GG: but you seem nice to me! :)   
TC: really?   
GG: really really!   
TC: IF YOU SAY SO. :oD   


  
TC: KARKAT MY BEST FINEST DIAMOND.   
CG: JESUS CHRIST GAMZEE IT’S SEVEN IN THE MORNING.   
CG: I’M TRYING TO FALL ASLEEP HERE, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?   
TC: you were right palebro.   
TC: YOU WERE MOTHERFUCKING RIGHT.   
CG: OF COURSE I WAS RIGHT, WHAT SORT OF IDIOT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?   
CG: ...WHAT WAS I RIGHT ABOUT?   
TC: i just messaged the reddest most amazing lady i ever did see.   
TC: AND SHE MOTHERFUCKING TALKED TO ME.   
CG: OH MY GOD.   
TC: and she didn’t call me a freak or a soporhead or nothing.   
CG: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY DID IT.   
TC: AND WE TALKED ABOUT CHINA AND RAP AND THE MIRTHFUL FUCKING MESSIAHS.   
CG: GAMZEE NO WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT HUMANS AND THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS.   
TC: and she said   
TC: THAT IT WAS MOTHERFUCKIN INTERESTING AND SHE HAD HER OWN BELIEFS BUT THAT SHE WAS GOING TO LOOK THEM UP.   
CG: HOLY SHIT.   
CG: IS THIS WOMAN SOME SORT OF SAINT?   
TC: i dunno karkat i dunno.   
TC: BUT I DO THINK MY BLOODPUSHER IS PUMPIN A LITTLE BIT MORE FLUSHED.   



End file.
